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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695909">Unequipped</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/montechriss/pseuds/montechriss'>montechriss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cooking, DNF, Dre - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Possible NSFW?, Recipes, dream - Freeform, dreamnotfound</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:14:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,763</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/montechriss/pseuds/montechriss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George meets a mysterious blond that comes into his family restaurant.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dnf - Relationship, dreamnotfound - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George was practically raised in the kitchen throughout his whole life. Whenever he wasn't sleeping or at school, he was in his father's restaurant learning the ropes. However, he never expected to be as passionate about cooking as he is today. One would think that being surrounded by loud kitchen utensils and aromatic spices would make George feel sickened from the atmosphere by now, but on the contrary. Cooking was his lifestyle, his passion. It was one of the main reasons for life at the moment. That is, until a tall blond stepped into the restaurant.</p><p>    He felt the quick rush of cold air hit his face as the blond walked into the kitchen with an older woman beside him. He was dressed casually, wearing a black turtleneck with dark jeans and black nikes, while the woman beside him was wearing a typical chef outfit with a tall white hat. George immediately recognized that she would be the new sous chef, seeing as the last one quit out of nowhere. George’s father stepped out of his office when he noticed the pair, and immediately started showing the woman around, leaving the boy staring around the kitchen in curiosity.</p><p>    George couldn’t help but stare at the beautiful boy. He brushed his hair to the side while looking around, then suddenly made eye contact with George. They both froze. It felt like an eternity. The boy shared a small smile at George, making him turn quickly as he realized that his pasta was nearly overcooked. Groaning, he threw the penne into the bin and walked into the pantry to get some more. He was half paying attention to his task at hand when he suddenly bumped into someone.</p><p>    “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a new voice panicked. George looked in the direction where the voice came from, and his eyes widened upon realizing it was the beautiful blond who was apologizing.</p><p>    “No, you’re all good! It’s my bad, I was a bit spaced out. My apologies,” George spoke softly, almost in a whisper. Why was he being like this all of a sudden? He started walking towards the pantry again when he suddenly heard,</p><p>    “Um, is there any way I could help with whatever you’re doing? My mom’s talking to her new boss, and I’m so bored I feel like my head is about to explode,” The boy groaned. Turning around, George said, “Oh, uh, yeah! I’m just making some pasta. Um, are you any good with a knife?”</p><p>    “I haven’t used one before, but I’ve seen my mom cooking a few times, so I might know a thing or two!” The boy sounded confident, almost as if he hasn’t just said that he’s never used a cooking knife.</p><p>    “Well maybe you can just grate the cheeses for me, in that case,” George laughed, walking towards the fridge to grab some mozzarella, parmesan, and pepper jack cheese. He handed the cheeses to the boy, eyeing him curiously. He’s not from around here, he thought. He sounds like a basic American from a teen football movie.</p><p>    “Right, where’s the cheese grater?” The boy questioned. George pointed to the shelf with the various graters and walked back into the pantry to grab the uncooked pasta. Heading back to his station, he saw the blond eye the grater, and the cheeses curiously. He looked lost.</p><p>    “Do you know how to grate cheese?” George glanced at the boys face, his eyes dancing with amusement.</p><p>    “Well, uh, my mom never did this, at least not in front of me. I’m scared to cut my finger off or something.”</p><p>    “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I’ll show you how.” George put emphasis on the word that, making his way to the boy’s side. He began gradually grating the pepper jack, glancing at the beautiful boy every now and then to make sure he was following along.</p><p>    “That doesn’t seem too bad, actually,” He laughed. George thought his laugh sounded intoxicating. He could listen to it all day if he could.</p><p>    “My name is C- Dream.. by the way,” Dream reached his hand out at George, who grabbed it and firmly shook it once.</p><p>    “What an interesting name.. I’m George,” The boy chuckled, making George smiled. Dream's hands felt cold and slightly damp, and George just assumed it was because he didn’t dry his hands properly after washing them. Turning back to the stove, he began filling his pot with fresh water then put it back on the burner for it to boil. He walked back next to the boy and began mincing cloves of garlic and basil rapidly. He felt someone staring at him, and he looked up only to see Dream gazing at him in awe.</p><p>    “That’s insane, how do you move the knife so quickly? My hands could never,” he said in disbelief.</p><p>    “To be fair, I’ve been cooking for as long as I can remember. It just takes practice, you know?”<br/>
“Oh, come on now. You make it seem like it’s some sort of side hobby or something. Those skills are amazing,” Dream's excitement made George blush a light pink, making him turn back to his mincing. He could see Dream's eyes gazing at him every now and then from his peripheral vision, but he assumed that he was just trying to learn how to cook the dish. George started cooking the basil and garlic in olive oil, then suddenly he heard his name being called from his father’s office.</p><p>    “Um, would you mind making sure this doesn’t burn? After a few minutes, just turn the heat down to medium add in the tomatoes. I shouldn’t take too long!” George quickly instructed, then turned towards the office when Dream nodded. He took a step in, and immediately got a whiff of cinnamon and vanilla. Must be the woman’s perfume, George thought to himself.</p><p>    “George, my boy! This is our new sous chef, Chef Matthews! She is one of the top chefs in America.”</p><p>    “Oh, hello! It’s a pleasure to meet you,” George smiled, extending his hand towards the chef. She smiled back, “The pleasure is all mine! I assume you’ve met my son already?”</p><p>    “This is your son?” George questioned, then immediately smacked himself in his head. Of course, he was her son. They were practically clones. Chef Matthews was tan with wavy blonde hair, green-blue eyes, and freckles just like his son. The sous chef nodded.</p><p>    “Yes, he is! I didn’t think he would be this excited to move to London, but here we are,” She smiled warmly at George, giving him a comforting feeling.</p><p>    “Well son, Chef Matthews here is going to be your boss when I’m not around, got it? Don’t try to undermine her authority as you did with Chef Danvers.” George winced at the name of the previous sous chef. Chef Danvers was always so cruel to George, yet acted like a pure angel around his father. It was sickening.</p><p>    “Got it, father,” George said half-heartedly, “May I go now? I’m in the middle of a dish, and I left Dream in charge of it for the meantime.”</p><p>    “Oh, gosh, go! Dream truly cannot cook to save his life. I wouldn’t want for my son to burn down the kitchen on my first day!” Chef Matthews rushed, “George, it was such a pleasure meeting you!” She smiled at him. George returned the smile and kind words and sped walked over to his station. He flinched at the sight upon him. Dream's sleeves were rolled up as cold water was running down his red forearm.</p><p>    “Dream, what happened? Are you okay?” George rushed over to the boy, examining the burn.</p><p>    “Ah, it’s nothing, really. I got a bit distracted and burned myself a bit. The tomatoes have been simmering for about five-ish minutes now, I think?”</p><p>    “Oh, thank you for that. Hold on, let me go grab the first aid kit. You stay put,” George dashed to the first aid kit near the back entrance, then made his way back to Dream to treat the burn.</p><p>    “You really shouldn’t put me in charge of hot foods, Georgie,” Dream joked. George rolled his eyes at the nickname.</p><p>    “And you really need to be careful around hot foods, Dream,” He looked up at the blond, making eye contact with him. George’s breath hitched upon seeing his eyes. They were.. Beautiful. Dream cleared his throat.</p><p>    “Take a picture, why don’t you?” He teased, making George flush a light pink.</p><p>    “Oh, shut up,” George quipped. Once his burn was treated, George washed his hands and returned to the stove to finish the dish. He wasn’t making it for any customer or anything, so it was alright if it looked a bit messy. He served some of the pasta onto three different plates, giving Dream one of them. He gladly grabbed a fork and took a bite from the dish.</p><p>    “Oh my gosh this is so good. How is this so good? You’re like a kitchen wizard,” Dream beamed excitedly. George laughed lightly. “As I said, it’s just practice.”</p><p>    George looked over to his father’s office, watching as Chef Matthews made her way into the kitchen. George took this as his cue to grab one of the plates and head into the office. Knocking twice, he heard his father from the other end tell him to come inside. He looked at the dish in George’s hand excitedly as he handed it to him.</p><p>    “George, you never cease to amaze me! This looks brilliant, thank you. Are you testing out future menu items?” His father asked. George nodded, looking at the man expectantly.<br/>
“When do you think one of my dishes will be on there?” He asked.</p><p>    “Soon, I believe,” His father exclaimed. He began eating, and George took this as his cue to leave. By the time he got back to Dream, he had already finished eating the dish. He looked at George excitedly like a puppy.</p><p>    “Hey! My mom just told me we were leaving, but I was wondering if I could get your number so we could talk more? I don’t know how often I’m going to be here,” Dream chuckled lightly. George nodded excitedly, pulling out his phone from his back pocket and handing it to Dream. He turned to start cleaning up his station when he heard, “I had a lot of fun today! I actually learned something for once. You’ve taught me more than my mother has, believe it or not.” George didn’t know what to say. He turned to look at the boy, gazing into his jade eyes.</p><p>    “I had fun, too! I’m glad you were able to learn something, Dream,” George smiled. Dream extended his hand with George’s phone in it, and he took it carefully. They each said their goodbyes, and George waved at him once he was about to leave through the door. Once Dream was gone, he frantically checked his phone to see the new contact added. George groaned and rolled his eyes. Dream put his contact name as “dreamy chef boy&lt;3”, causing George to chuckle lightly. What an idiot, George thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George and Dream get closer to each other as they get to know each other better, then Clay asks him a question that's been burning in his mind since the first day they met.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>  George’s drive home wasn’t too long, seeing as he lived just a few blocks away from the restaurant. He couldn’t help but think about the blond boy from earlier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dream Matthews,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There’s something about his name that I can’t get out of my mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>..</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Before he realized it, he was already home. He sighed, grabbing his now charged phone and keys, and stepped out of his car. The cold air smacked him in the face and he winced, tucking in his arms  after he locked his car door. Walking up the stairs to his home, he only had one thing on his mind: </span>
  <em>
    <span> Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream, Dream..</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    He hadn’t realized that he was staring at the fake potted plant in front of him. He quickly shook his head, unlocking the door only to be met with even </span>
  <em>
    <span>colder</span>
  </em>
  <span> air. Shivering slightly, he walked across the living room to turn on his radiator. His house wasn’t too fancy or anything, with light grey wooden floors and baby blue walls, it felt personal. It felt like </span>
  <em>
    <span>George.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He walked into the kitchen, deciding to warm himself up, humming as he did so. Once he finished, he decided to change, going to his room and slipping off his work attire. He put on black sweats and a dark blue hoodie, nothing too crazy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like I can see other colors anyways,</span>
  </em>
  <span> George thought to himself, chuckling lightly. He then made his way back to the kitchen and grabbed his steaming mug, walking towards his living room to plop onto his couch.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Before George was about to reach for his TV remote, he stopped himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if I just..</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he glanced at his phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe one text couldn’t hurt?</span>
  </em>
  <span> George thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But then again, What would we even talk about? This man was a complete stranger! All I know is that he’s clumsy and beau-</span>
  </em>
  <span> George paused his thoughts. What was he thinking? George has never thought about a man that way, much less a man he didn’t even know.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>What is this man doing to me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    It’s been about a week since George and Dream's first encounter. They’ve been attached to the hip ever since. The day after their first meeting, Dream immediately pouted upon seeing the brunette.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    “Why didn’t you text me, Georgie? I was staring at my phone all night!” He looked down at George, making him giggle.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    “I’m sorry Dream, I was busy. Besides, we barely even know each other.” George put emphasis on the taller boy’s name, rolling his eyes. Dream took this opportunity to wrap his arm around George’s shoulders, giving him a cheeky grin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    “So let’s get to know each other!” Dream beamed at him. George looked at the unfamiliar hand that rested on his shoulder. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>His fingers are all the same length</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>, he thought to himself. Smiling, he looked up at the blond.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    “You’ve known me for one day, and you’re already flirting? Kind of sus of you, Dreamy.” George teased, earning an eye roll from Dream as he took his arm away.</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    “You’re something else, Georgie. Come on, let’s go inside”</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>George chuckled lightly, remembering their little banter. Dream said something, but George didn’t really hear him. Turning around, he tilted his head to the side and hummed a question.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Dream looked at him in concern. “I asked if the onions look good. Are you okay, Georgie?” George blinked, making eye contact with Dream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s so pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, He thought to himself. They were close enough that George could probably count the freckles on his face if he wanted to. He swallowed hard, then looked down at the green onions Dream was chopping. They were messy and inconsistent.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “They’re a bit off. Here, let me show you how,” George shuffled behind Dream, wrapping his arms around him. His arms weren’t the longest, so he had to press his chest against Dream's back. He could feel every muscle tense up, and George silently wished that Dream couldn’t feel his heartbeat doing backflips. He got up on his tippy toes and placed his chin on Dream's shoulder. He grabbed his hands and began guiding him with the onion cutting.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “You have to do it at a bit of an angle, and make the cuts as even as possible,” George explained, almost in a whisper.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Why do they have to be cut at an angle?” Dream questioned, his voice equally as low.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “It just makes the dish look fancier,” George breathed. After chopping way too much onion, George realized he was going overboard. Even though the kitchen was scalding, George enjoyed the heat Dream had. It felt intoxicating. He could stay there forever, teaching the tallboy how to properly chop foods.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Do you know how to mince garlic yet?” The older questioned. Dream shook his head, turning to look down at George.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Could you teach me?” He asked softly. George nodded his head but still didn’t move. They locked their gaze for what felt like an eternity. The tension couldn’t even be cut with the sharpest knife in the kitchen, but then George broke away from the taller boy’s gaze.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Erm, I should probably get the ingredients, huh?” He cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yeah,  that’d be good. Cooking and stuff, you know? We need food to cook better food,” Dream nervously rambled, rubbing the back of his neck. He felt his cheeks burning, but he could just blame the hot kitchen. George nodded, then made his way to grab the rest of the ingredients. Meanwhile, Dream realized that the eggs still needed to be beaten. He bent down and grabbed a bowl from the tray below him, and cracked in two eggs with some salt. He was in the middle of mixing it when George strolled back to the station.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, I didn’t think you knew what to do here,” George stated, sounding surprised. He gazed at Dream with increased interest, his head slightly tilted to the side. Dream just chuckled.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’m not completely clueless, you know. I started picking up a few things. Besides, I was reading the recipe.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    George shook his head, making his way towards the blond. He grabbed a bowl poured in the tapioca flour and cold water and stirred. Once he saw it was dissolved, he turned to Dream.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Do you still want to learn how to mince garlic?” George questioned, making him look up from his beaten eggs. They were already done, and George couldn’t realize why he kept beating them.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yeah, yes I’d really like that actually,” Dream put down the bowl gently, turning his body to face the brunet, watching in interest. George reached for the cutting board on the shelf above him, but it was out of reach. Groaning, he started turning so he could grab a step stool, but stopped when he felt someone behind him. His breath hitched as he saw the hand reach up and grab the cutting board.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Looking for this?” Dream asks, giving George a cheeky grin. George rolled his eyes, setting the board down and reaching for his knife.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Yes, thank you,” He said slowly. He began mincing the garlic, trying to go as slow as he could so Dream could learn about what he was doing. He looked up for a split second, making eye contact with the blond. He hadn’t realized that they were staring at each other. He looked away rapidly, clearing his throat.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Uh, do you think you understand it now?” George asked, his voice a bit higher than usual. Dream nodded slowly, moving towards George and taking the knife. He began mincing the rest of the garlic almost perfectly. George watched in awe. The knife moved so swiftly as if he were the son of a professional chef. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well…</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I thought you didn’t know how to mince garlic, but you’re doing it so well!”</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, come on now. Don’t act like I don’t have an amazing teacher,” Dream praised, making George flush a light pink. He turned his back at him, making his way towards the stove. “Whatever,” he mumbled to himself. He adds the chicken broth and ground ginger in the pot then turns around to grab the garlic. When he turned, he noticed Dream was staring at him, and he looked away rapidly. Chuckling to himself, George just grabbed the minced garlic and added it to the broth mixture, and brought it to a boil. He started humming while cleaning up the mess they made. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dream smiling on his phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wonder what that’s about, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    George watched Dream drink the last bits of the soup. He gazed at him, intrigued as to his opinion on the egg drop soup. He remembered Dream telling him that he’s never had it.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve always wanted to try it, but there were no good places in Florida for it. Trust me, I checked. Yelp really comes in handy sometimes, I swear.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>George smiled fondly at the memory that happened just the other day. George was glad he was a decent cook, because he could make Dream whatever dishes he wanted.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Georgie, that was so good! I didn’t think egg drop soup could taste so amazing,” Dream beamed at George, his face covered with glee. George hasn’t seen him this excited about anything in the whole week he’s known him. It gave George a warm feeling in his chest. </span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’m glad you liked it,” George smiled at the ecstatic boy. He couldn’t help but think about how much he loved this feeling; seeing Dream looking so gleeful over a bowl of soup. A bowl of soup that George made </span>
  <em>
    <span>just for him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. To be fair, George has never even liked egg drop soup, but he just wanted to make Dream happy. He wished he could feel this way forever.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Once George had finished cleaning up the kitchen, he realized that he and Dream were the only ones left in the stainless steel furnished room. George reached for his coat near the door, turning around to Dream as he pulled on the warm material. He put his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave for the night.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Goodnight Dre-” George started, but he was interrupted by the blond.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “George, uh, before you go can I ask you something?” He fidgeted with his sleeves, which George noticed was something he often did whenever he was nervous about something. He took his hand off of the knob, turning a 180 to fully face Dream.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Of course, what’s up Dream?” He questioned, tilting his head slightly out of curiosity.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Erm, I was wondering if you’d want to go get coffee together sometime? Maybe on Sunday when the restaurant is closed?” He looked down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. George stood there in awe. He didn’t know what to say. He stepped towards Dream, grabbing his fidgeting hands into his own. He looked up, making eye contact with the brunet. He immediately felt calmer. George tried to choose his words carefully.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Do you mean, like, a date?” George questioned slowly. The taller boy nodded, keeping their eye contact. George smiled excitedly.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I’d love to, Dream!” He exclaimed, squeezing the hands he held slightly. Dream let out a sigh of relief, grinning ear to ear.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, thank you. I’ll be honest, I haven’t been out much since moving, besides coming here and to grocery stores. You’re probably going to have to pick the cafe,” He laughed nervously. They were both inching closer instinctively, and they hadn’t realized how little space was between them until George could feel Dream's breath on his face. He swallowed hard, not knowing what to do. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was this really happening right now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> George questioned himself. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he stepped back, letting go of Dream's hands. He checked the clock on the wall.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Uh, I should probably get going. My poor cat is probably starving by now,” He chuckled nervously, pulling at the hem of his sweater. Suddenly, it didn’t seem that cold to George.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, yeah no, I totally understand! Go, your cat needs you. I just want to take care of something, then I’ll lock up for you,” George nodded at that, walking back towards the door. Once his hand was on the doorknob once again, he turned his head towards the blond.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Goodnight, Dream,” George smiled at him. The corner of Dream's lips turned up at the words.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Goodnight, Georgie. I’ll see you tomorrow,” George nodded at the words, turning the knob and stepping outside. Closing the door, he leaned his back against the metal frame. His hand slid down the side of his face.</span>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I’m going on a date with Dream, </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who would’ve thought?</span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    He grinned ear to ear at the thought. He’d have to ask around for a good cafe to take him to because truth be told, he’s never actually been to one before.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HII THERE :D I honestly didn't think anyone would read this fic besides my friends, but 50 something hits and 7 kudos is insanee, thank you! I hope y'all liked this chapter, but there's some serious tension between them.. I'm loving it. I hope it's not too fast paced!! Anyways, here's the recipe link for egg drop soup! https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/115965/egg-drop-soup-better-than-restaurant-quality/ Honestly, I've always wanted to try it since some of my online friends have told me about it, so I thought I'd incorporate it here! Speaking of which, shout out to Liz and Ky cause they read my chapters before I publish them and give me notes/feedback! :D I really appreciate you  guys. If y'all have any advice or anything, please let me know! Comments would be veryy appreciated, and I'm open for constructive criticism to help me become a better writer! Like I've said before, updates may be somewhat inconsistent (When I first thought of the concept, I was writing for 3 days straight, then stopped all of a sudden!) However, I'll try to update as often as I can &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>George and Clay go on their first date.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>    Clay stood in the middle of the kitchen in awe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I seriously just ask him out on a DATE?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked himself.</span>
  <em>
    <span> For fucks sake, I don’t even know if he likes guys! I should’ve asked him about that first, but then again he said yes, so what does that mean??</span>
  </em>
  <span> At this point, Clay was pacing back and forth. He was nervously fidgeting with his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>Did I just make a mistake?</span></em><span> He couldn’t help but question himself. </span><em><span>What do I even want out of this?</span></em> <em><span>What am I even DOING?</span></em></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    After pacing for about half an hour, Clay calmed down slightly. He checked the time on the wall. It was already 12:37 am. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I should probably go home before Mom gets too worried, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. He made sure all of the burners and ovens were off, and turned off the lights, grabbing his coat and scarf. Clay’s outerwear was a lot thicker than most people in London, but it’s probably because he’s still used to the Florida weather. After he locked the door, he pulled out his phone and called for an uber. He had a car here and all, but european driving was nearly impossible for Clay. He’s probably spent hundreds on ubers alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Clay waited outside of the restaurant for his uber. He couldn’t stop replaying the scenes from today: The way George’s smile beamed at him when he ate the soup, their bodies pressed close together, their shared body heat, the way George looked up at him with doe eyed..</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He shook his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s my only friend here, I can’t fuck that up, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Clay thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But then again, I can always make more friends..</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    The honking car snapped Clay out of his trance. He stepped into the backseat of the car, exchanging greetings to the driver. He didn’t want to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that guy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so rather than being on his phone for the whole ride, he engaged in conversation with the driver. Once he got home, they said their goodbyes, and Clay gave him a $30 tip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Nice guy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. He walked up to his apartment door, only to be greeted with the smell of beef and various spices and sauces. Clay walked into the kitchen and saw two steaming bowls of gyūdon on the island counter. His mother turned when she heard Clay’s footsteps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Hi, honey! You’re home late, what happened?” She asked, her face masked with concern. Clay shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Nothing happened, Mom. Just helped George clean up after the restaurant closed, that’s all.” She nodded her head at that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Ahh, the owner’s son. He’s a cutie, huh?” Her eyes danced with amusement, then turned back to chopping her green onions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “I mean, I guess so? We’re getting coffee together on Sunday, so I don’t know when I’ll come back. We might even get lost cause of how big London is,” He grimaced at the thought of getting lost in the city. It was so different from Florida, and he was nowhere near being used to this new atmosphere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    “Well, I’d hope not! Make sure you turn your location on just in case, alright?” Clay nodded, walking towards the utensil drawer to grab some chopsticks for himself and his mother. His mom then garnished the two bowls, and they sat down to eat together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    The day before the date, Clay had no idea where they were going. He tried getting George to tell him multiple times, asking during work and texting him whenever he had the chance. Each attempt failed, however, for George only said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll just have to wait and see, Dreamy.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>For some reason, Clay’s heart went wild without fail every time the word slipped from George’s lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    His lips,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clay thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do I keep thinking about those lips?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    George woke up bright and early on Saturday morning. He can’t remember when he’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> excited for coffee. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t even like coffee that much,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sure I can just get some tea or something, but Clay would surely call me a stereotype. Why did I even agree to this?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He eagerly got out of bed, rushing to his bathroom to brush his teeth and shave. He ran his hands through his hair, nodding once he was satisfied with the results. He then rushed to his wardrobe to pick out an outfit. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>    “I don’t even have anything to wear,” George mumbled to himself, rummaging through his various shirts. He decided on dark red pants (</span>
  <em>
    <span>at least, he thought they were red)</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a white collar shirt and a dark blue sweater over it. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the simple outfit. Nodding to himself, he decided that was an acceptable wardrobe choice. As he was heading to his kitchen, his phone rang. He frantically picked up his phone, only to realize his friend Wilbur had messaged him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <b>
    <em>Wilby</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>ready for your hot date, gogy?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>  Gogy</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not some “hot date”, we’re   </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>just getting some coffee, is all</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>    Wilby</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    mhm, i’m sure that’s EXACTLY what</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>            it is. u still have the address?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Gogy</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>YES, I’ve got the address, mum</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Wilby</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>    damn right i’m ur mum, someone’s gotta be</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Gogy</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever, i’ll text you later</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    George turned off his phone, grabbing his keys and going towards his front door. He slipped on his shoes and walked out of his townhouse, locking the door behind him. George told Clay to meet him at the restaurant, so he made his way there, taking a shortcut so he could get there faster. He wanted to how up before Clay, but when he pulled up, he saw that the lights were on inside. Turning off the car, he made his way towards the front doors and opened them, only to find Clay sitting in a booth in the corner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “About time you showed up, I’ve been waiting for over an hour,” Clay groaned, rolling his eyes. George instantly felt guilty. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I give him the wrong time?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked himself silently, worry rolling over his face. He rushed towards the blond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Clay I’m so sorry I had no idea! I swear I wanted to come before you showed up so I could drive you but I didn’t think you’d be here this early and I was texting my friend so I lost track of time for a bit and I just-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Georgie, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m just messing with you. I got here about ten minutes ago, don’t worry,” Clay wheezed, his annoyed demeanor quickly switching to a playful one. George sighed in relief, then playfully punched Clay’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “You’re such an ass. I got so worried, Clay,” He frowned. Their eyes met, making George’s expression immediately soften. “Are you ready to leave?” George asked, his voice lowering. Clay nodded, not wanting to break eye contact. Their eyes clung onto each other for a good thirty seconds before George cleared his throat, looking to the side when he realized a light flush was forming on his cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Um, are you ready?” Clay asked, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly getting bashful. He gave George a sly smile, and he returned the gesture. Nodding his head, he extended his hand towards the boy sitting in front of him. Clay blinked, looking back and forth from his face and his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Well don’t be all shy now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clay.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Let me help you up,” George giggled, watching as Clay’s eyes widened at the emphasis on his name. He hesitantly grasped George’s hand, his grip was stronger than George anticipated. He helped him get up, and they walked out of the restaurant together. In the parking lot, George tried spinning his keychain on his finger in an attempt to look suave in front of the beautiful boy. He ended up dropping the keys. Groaning, he bent down to grab his failed attempt at impressing Clay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot believe I just did that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he complained in his own mind. He didn’t even realize that Clay was wheezing behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, George,” The blond had his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Shut up, Clay! That was so embarrassing,” George mumbled the last part, his face turning a bright red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Aww Georgie,” Clay cooed, walking towards him once he caught his breath. He squatted, making eye contact with him, “It’s okay! I thought it was cute, really,” He grinned, instantly making George feel much better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “But I wasn’t trying to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Clay,” He pouted. He wanted to just leave this damn parking lot already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Do you wanna leave? I can try to drive if you’d like,” Clay offered, standing up. This time, he was the one offering his hand to the other. George took it lightly, getting hoisted up quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jeez, this guy is strong,</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder how easily he could carry me..</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    He quickly shook his head. Why was he thinking about Clay </span>
  <em>
    <span>carrying him</span>
  </em>
  <span>? This wasn’t something George normally thought about.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Oh, I understand! To be fair, I wasn’t that good of a driver in America, imagine how shit I’d be here? The cars are on completely different roads, I could barely get used to the other roads in Florida,” Clay complained while George stepped into the drivers seat. He swiftly put the address into the GPS, turning to Clay who sat beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “You know, it doesn’t hurt to try, George offered. Clay looked at him wide eyed, his face flushed with excitement. He nodded, and hurried out of the car to go into the driver’s seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~*~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Clay was a maniac. He was going over the speed limit, nearly hitting trash cans, and even managed to almost drive on the sidewalk at one point. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, they call it pavement here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thought to himself. Once they got to the cafe, Clay turned off the car, turning to face George nervously. He looked like a wreck. His hair was all over the place, his face flushed. He was gripping onto the car handle so hard that his knuckles were white. He turned towards Clay with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell was that?!</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” He exclaimed, his voice a bit higher than normal. Clay laughed. “‘Oh, I’m not that good of a driver,’ That’s right, you’re not that good, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” George breathed. He tried imitating Clay’s American accent, making him laugh even more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Oh Georgie, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” He questioned, trying to make his voice as comforting as he could. He saw George’s eyes soften at the nickname, and his lips turned up slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “I-I’m okay, Clay. How are you so calm right now? You drive like a psycho,” George gasped, his voice was a bit shaky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “I’ve always drove like this, Georgie,” Clay laughed, “Come on, let’s get you some tea or something to calm you down,” Clay turned off the car, looking at George again. He nodded, running his hands through his hair. They both walked out of the car, Clay locking the door. The cafe was small, and had a very homey atmosphere. The walls were lined with bookshelves, each filled to the edge with aged books. The air smelled like coffee and hazelnut, simultaneously filling the boys’ nostrils. The anxiousness George felt from Clay’s maniac driving was eased almost instantly. He smiled softly, looking over at the blond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Do you want to find a table for us?” George spoke softly, almost in a whisper. Clay nodded eagerly, taking in the atmosphere. He walked away, leaving George alone. Walking up to the counter, he realized that he didn’t know what Clay wanted. Taking out his phone, he started typing out a message to the boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>George</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just noticed that I didn’t even ask you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>what you wanted</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>dreamy chef boy&lt;3</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>surprise me(;</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    George audibly groaned at the message. He rolled his eyes instinctively, thinking about what he might like to drink. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Well, he doesn’t seem like a sweet coffee kind of guy, but you never know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>He pondered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I can just get us the same orders? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Before he realized it, it was already his turn. The barista smiled brightly, asking what he’d like to order.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Uh, could I have two café au laits please?” He ordered, trying his best to pronounce the french coffee the best that he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “You got it! Would you like something to eat with that?” She questioned cheerfully. George hesitated. He didn’t think this far ahead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s kind of early, maybe Clay hasn’t eaten yet?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “I’ll take two croissants with that, please,” He tried to muster a smile. The barista nodded, and started making his order. He went to go look for Clay, and genuinely smiled once he laid eyes upon him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “So, what’d you order?” Clay questioned, fiddling with a straw absentmindedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “I got us two café au laits and some croissants,” He stated proudly. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he pronounced the names right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “What’s that? Sounds fancy,” Clay propped his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands and looking at George with interest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “It’s, uh, it’s just coffee. Instead of using cold milk, they make it with warm milk. It’s a french drink,” He explained, somewhat flustered due to how Clay looked at him. The blond nodded, satisfied with the answer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Café au laits with croissants! Café au laits with croissants!” George’s head perked up upon hearing their order be called. As he was about to get up, Clay put his hands on George’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Let me get it for you,” Clay smiled. Uncertain at first, he nodded slowly. George couldn’t help but smile as he watched the tall boy walk up to the counter and take the order from the barista. He could see her smiling, and suddenly Clay looked back at George, his face masked with delight. His smile grew upon seeing the brunet. George blushed, looking away. A minute later, Clay came with the coffees and croissants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Georgie, can I tell you a little secret?” Clay questioned once he settled in. Picking up his drink with both hands, George nodded slowly. “Uh, this is actually my first date. I don’t think I’ve ever properly gone out with someone before,” He stammered nervously. Clay looked away, his cheeks flushed a light pink, making George giggle into his drink. He leaned close to Clay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Clay, I’ve never been on a date either,” He spoke in a whisper. They kept eye contact for a few seconds. “Maybe it’s because you drive like a psychopath,” George said softly, leaning back and laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “You’re such an idiot,” Clay rolled his eyes, his lips turned up in a small smile. He brought his drink up, and almost took a sip when George shook his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “No, Clay. This is a french coffee, you gotta drink it like the frenchies,” George stated. Clay set his drink down, putting his hands up defensively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Well, pardon me for not knowing how to drink foreign coffee,” He laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “Look, you gotta grab it with both of your hands, like this,” George demonstrated, taking a sip from his drink. He grimaced at the taste, but hoped Clay didn’t noticed. Taking a mental note in his head, he grabbed the bol with both hands, mimicking the brunet. He took a small sip, humming in approval. George’s smile got even bigger upon hearing that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “I liked it. Not too sweet,” He praised happily, setting the drink down and grabbing his croissant. At the last second, he hesitated. “Is there a special way to eat these, too?” Clay teased, tilting his head slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “There is, actually!” George said excitedly. He grabbed a napkin and wrapped it around the bottom of the croissant. “You wrap it around the croissant like this, then eat it from the top down,” He beamed. Nodding, Clay did what he was told and ate the pastry. It was one of the best croissants he’s ever had; it was soft and buttery, and extremely flakey. He smiled to himself, which made George giggle lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    “You’re not going to eat, Georgie?” Clay questioned. George nodded his head, taking another sip of his coffee.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<span>    “I already ate something this morning,” He replied, smiling at the boy in front of him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, we probably look like idiots smiling like this, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought to himself. Clay hummed in response, and they sat together enjoying each other’s presence for the rest of the date.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ahh thank you guys for the support! :D this update was a bit late, but I had some writers block for a while. I didn't know how I wanted the date to go, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out! I tried to do something a little different, and add a POV change and some text messages, and it was also a bit longer than the other two. Things are going so well for them both, who knows what'll happen? (; here are the recipes for today! https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/246894/gyudon-japanese-beef-bowl/ (this is for the gyudon beef bowl) https://www.thespruceeats.com/cafe-au-lait-recipe-1374920 (and here's one for the coffee) I thought it'd be fun to have TWO recipes today to make up for the somewhat late update haha</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To be fair, this is my first time writing fanfiction. I GENUINELY HAVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING, but ANYWAYSS I don't know if any of you have read the manga kitchen princess, but in every chapter they make a dish/drink or whatever and at the end of the manga, there's always the recipe! I thought it would be a cute idea if I were to do something like that, so here's the link to the pasta dish they made together https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/193187/tomato-basil-penne-pasta/<br/>I really hope y'all enjoyed this!! I got this idea from a dream I had (haha), and I got so inspired. Updates may be somewhat inconsistent because of school and personal stuff, but i'll try whenever I can [: thank you for reading this!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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